Even The Stars Have Secrets
by obscire
Summary: The Doctor tries to get Amy to remember. Eleven/Amy, hints of Rory/Amy, spoilers for 5x05 'Flesh and Stone' and 5x09 'Cold Blood'.


**Even The Stars Have Secrets**  
by obscire

* * *

Sometimes, their world is not about fighting monsters and winning wars. Sometimes, it's not about standing up for the little guy, or moments of great epiphany. Sometimes, it's not about escaping from a trap or forming alliances with those they would otherwise avoid. Sometimes, their world is about more than that: it's about all the little moments in between.

When the TARDIS materialises, it isn't into a busy street with bustling crowds. It's on the side of an empty hill, masked by mist and starlight as the early-morning moon sits like a silver platter in the sky. Dew settles on the spiky grass like fresh beads, fashioned from the waves off the shore of a beach. The TARDIS door creaks open and, from it, a wide-eyed red-headed girl – who's seen so much of the universe so far – steps out. She wraps her long, red scarf around her fingers, shivering slightly as the cool air snakes between the layers of her clothes.

"Doctor?" she asks, turning and addressing the somewhat aloof man who appears behind her. "Where are we?"

He doesn't answer at first. Instead he smiles – that knowing one that twinkles in his eyes and reminds her _just_ how old he is – and shuts the door behind him. He starts stalking up the hill, his footsteps crushing the grass beneath his feet as he makes his way to the brow. The few clouds in the sky are scattered around like a distant family, separated by a wind that drives empty space between them.

Just before the top he stops and turns, with his back to whatever world is behind him, and spreads his arms.

"Amy Pond," he says warmly, beckoning her towards him. She grins and trots up to meet him, tempted to slide her fingers between his as she reaches him – she knows she mustn't, though, for a silent reason she can't quite voice. He leans forward, murmuring conspiracies in her ear, and she shivers against the cold. "I'm about to show you something magnificent."

They cross the brow of the hill together, not quite hand in hand, but as close as the ghost of their relationship will ever let them.

And it's then that Amy gasps. Down, way down, in the valley below is a herd of red deer, their coats glinting russet in the moonlight. The males are grazing more or less together and their great antlers rise high into the sky, even while their heads are dipped down to find tasty morsels in the grass.

The does are all nestled together too, but they're lying, some of them even asleep with half-closed eyes, and their ears twitch in the darkness. Off to one side there's a trickling stream that flashes brief reflections as it rumbles over stones and pebbles; one or two fawns are splashing about in it, another further upstream taking a drink. Their large ears swat imaginary flies from their faces and if Amy didn't know better she'd say they were laughing.

The herd is peaceful, silent, enjoying the cover of the forest behind them and the tranquillity that the hills and mountains surrounding them provide.

While Amy stands in rapture, the Doctor gently bumps her shoulder as he leans across to say, "We're in Scotland. Long time ago now, only just as it was being invaded by humans."

She tears her eyes away from the scene below and moves to him. He's pleased with himself – she can tell from the way he's trying not to smile – and it makes her wonder if he feels he's got one over on her, stunning her into silence by his surprise visits.

Without answering him, she goes to sit on the grass, ignoring the damp of the dew as it begins to seep through her clothes. The Doctor joins her without prompt, settling himself easy enough behind her and draping his arms over his knees. Amy lets herself listen to the silence of the place for just a moment before lying back against the curve of the hill and closing her eyes.

It's a few minutes before she hears the Doctor ask, "What are you doing?"

She smiles, but doesn't open her eyes. "Feeling," she responds quietly. "Used to do this as a kid all the time. If I was anywhere special I would just lie down, close my eyes and … _feel_ it. It helps me to remember."

"You're very strange," he responds, but there's a kind smile to his voice. Then, a little to her surprise, she feels him do the same beside her, tries not to make a sound as his hand brushes hers.

A cold wind breezes up the side of the hill, rustling the grass around them, and she's taken by the temptation to open her eyes and look at him. She blinks in surprise when she finds he's already watching her, his dark eyes large with the reflection of the moon sitting in them. It's not just the moon she can see reflected back in his eyes either, but rather strangely, her own image.

"Hi," she says quietly, caught off guard.

"Hello."

"Why did you bring me here?"

She's not sure why she's asking – it's a stupid question, why does the Doctor take her anywhere? – but it might be because his being silent is unnerving her a little. She's used to being the brash one, the one making the moves and kissing him when he least expects it; it makes her feel strange when she suspects he's trying a completely different approach to something between them.

Or maybe it's just all in her head and he's just being his usual, alien, self.

He hesitates a moment, then looks away, up to the stars in the night sky. "I thought you would appreciate it," is his answer, but she gets the feeling he's covering something up.

She turns to her side, props herself up on her elbow, and grins at him. Then she pokes him in the chest, on his shirt where his jacket has fallen away. "No, really."

He moves only his head to look back at her. "Why do you travel with me?" he asks instead, doing that irritating thing where he ducks out of a question.

However, he sounds genuinely interested and she answers without really meaning to. "You're exciting," she says, watching him closely and gauging for a reaction. "My life was so boring before I met you. I mean, it was fine, I don't need a crazy life to be happy or anything – but I always felt like there was something missing."

"And what about now?" He, too, props himself up on his elbow and he stares at her with such intensity she wonders if he's trying to make her spontaneously combust. "Is there anything missing now?"

She feels the corners of her eyes frown as she tries to work him out. "No… "

For a brief moment, the Doctor closes his eyes, as though he's defeated. Then he reaches over to her, a strong hand at her neck, as he tiredly rests his head against her own. His breath mingles with hers and for a very confusing moment she wonders if he's going to kiss her. But he doesn't.

He blinks slowly, as though he's struggling with something heavy that's been wearing him down. It unsettles her.

"Doctor," she whispers, "what's wrong?"

"You are, Amy." He moves a little, settling his temple close to hers. "I wish… "

She pulls back from him, jilted – this isn't like him at all. He's all laughs and smiles and positivity. "Okay, you need to tell me what's going on right now." Her eyes meet his, a strange mixture of confusion and loss. "What's going on?"

He drops his hand from her, but he holds her gaze for so long she wonders if he's heard her. "Do you remember when you kissed me?"

There he goes again, avoiding questions. A small flush rises to her cheeks and she gives a nervous, "Yes," in response, her laughter breaking the word into longer than it needed to be.

"Good. We stopped, didn't we? It was a very bad, very stupid, idea."

She can't stop the hurt frown that crosses her features, but she answers nonetheless. "Yeah."

"Amy." He says her name with such conviction that she can't help but look at him, can't help but wish he wasn't talking about whatever it is he's talking about. "Why did we stop?"

Those eyes of his could hold all the answers of the universe – but they don't hold hers. It's like the Wizard of Oz without the final present and her feeling is of the same disappointment

"I … I don't … "

"Remember, Amy." He's practically pleading with her now, his gaze boring into hers as though he's trying to reach into her soul and pull out something that isn't there yet, something that hasn't quite finished forming. "You have to remember."

She shakes her head, her heart racing in her chest. "Why are you doing this?" she murmurs.

He lets out a sigh and rolls onto his back, looking up at the night sky again as heavy breaths steal his rising chest. Amy lifts a hand to her eyes, where they feel cold, damp.

"I'm crying," she says quietly, and the Doctor looks at her. "Why am I crying?"

"Maybe you miss what isn't there," he replies cryptically, another of his 'I know something you don't' answers, but in that moment Amy is beyond caring. The tears aren't unstoppable and they don't sting, but they are there, raw as if they've been plucked from the very centre of her emotions.

She glances down again to the herd. They've moved a little, but they're still doing much the same in the midnight air. The forest behind them, dark green and bursting with life, looks like somewhere she might very well want to run and hide in a moment.

Looking back to the Doctor, she's about to ask him if he'll take them someplace else. But she's caught off guard by his eyes, by his hands which are simultaneously propping him up and reaching for her. Before she even knows what's happening he's pulled their lips together, for a just-that-side-of-chaste kiss, and before it's started it's already over. Her lips feel his absence painfully, but it feels wrong somehow, as though there's something else that they miss too.

She frowns at him, touching a hand to her mouth. "Why did you do that?"

"To prove a point." He's still close to her, but his eyes are searching hers, like she's an animal he can't understand. "It didn't _feel_ right, did it?"

"Not – really," she admits quietly, biting her lip. "I don't know why," she adds in a whisper. "You're – "

He holds up a finger, indicating for silence. "None of that," he says gently, kindly, his familiar smile slipping back into place. "You don't have to explain anything to me. You just have to remember."

He gets to his feet without another word, offering her his hand as he helps her up. He's a little different than he was a few moments before, the smile playing on his lips like a naughty schoolboy seems to have grown a little, become something that's just a touch older and wiser. She can't quite put her finger on it, but _something_ has changed.

Just as he slips his key into the lock, she puts a hand on his arm, stilling him. He glances back with slightly raised eyebrows, his expression open.

"You're trying to tell me something, aren't you?" she asks quietly.

He drops his gaze for a moment, a wry smile touching the corners of his mouth. "I'm always trying to tell you something."

"But this thing you're trying to tell me – " She can't quite explain the desperation in her voice, but then, maybe she doesn't need to. "Is it important?"

"Yes. Very."

With that he slips inside, leaving her to gaze up at the sky – at the stars – and wonder at his oddity. She's never met a man quite like the Doctor before. But then, imaginary friends always were so much better than the real ones.

**La Fin.**


End file.
